


Queen's Choice Variety Hour

by twelfth_hour



Category: Mr Love: Queen's Choice, Mr. Love: Queen's Choice, love and producer
Genre: Crack, F/M, One Shot Collection, please don't take this seriously it's all jokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 12:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19209325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelfth_hour/pseuds/twelfth_hour
Summary: Welcome to the Queen's Choice Variety Hour, your one stop shop for goofy one shots and memes!





	1. It's a Match! [GAVIN]

You don’t know how it got to this point, but you’re staring at the App store, thumb hovering over ‘install’.

For Tinder. Yeah. Tinder.

This week, you’re gearing up to produce a short web series about online dating. You’ve never really ventured much into the dating scene since you got your producer position, but the idea piqued your interest. Willow was the one to bring Tinder into the conversation first. You had heard of it in passing, but never met anyone who used it. Turns out, everyone in the office used it. Go figure.

On set that morning, all the social media influencers invited to appear for the episode about Tinder were congregated around craft services, swapping horror stories and awful dates thanks to the app. You eavesdropped—it’s not like you meant to, but wow, can it really be that bad?

The shoot ran later than expected, but before you could truly let yourself go to unconsciousness, Tinder popped back up in your head. You sigh. “Research. This is for research.” You try to justify it, when really, you have an unquenchable curiosity.

The app installs in a snap, and now you’re looking at the collection of pretty models explaining the app to you. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Once you enter your information—name, age, location, the works—you’re presented with the option to upload pictures.

Your camera roll is dusty; being a producer doesn’t give you a lot of time for a social life. But you settle on two: a picture Anna took of you at your desk (thankfully your eyebags aren’t too noticeable), and one with you, Kiki, and Willow out at a bar after work.

Now, your cursor blinks in a big textbox. ‘ABOUT YOU’, it shouts at you. You’re sitting up in your bed now, staring back at the box. _22 year old producer at MC Studios. Please watch Miracle Finder!_

You cringe. “Ugh. Am I that boring?” You erase the last sentence. Kind of tacky to advertise your biggest show, huh?

 _22 year old producer at MC Studios. Let me make pudding for you :)_  

“Okay. I guess that’ll do for now.” You hit ‘SAVE’, and you’re launched into the unknown.

You get the hang of the swiping mechanic, and you become accustomed quickly to left swiping.

_Ew, why is he holding the fish like that? Am I supposed to be impressed?_

_Hey, he’s cute—oh, he’s looking for threesomes? Weird. I thought this was a dating app._

_‘Sit on my face’. Maybe I’m not meant to date right now…_

You’re about to put your phone down when you stumble upon an unassuming profile. Gavin, 24. His bio is blank. But from his photos, he's very attractive. You swipe right, and are shocked to be met with the ‘It’s a match!’ screen. You pat yourself on the back—if you could match with him, maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

You set your phone down to get settled for bed, when it vibrates. Gavin has messaged you. “Oh?” You say, unlocking your phone.

 _Hi cutie :)_ , it reads.

 _Good evening, how are you?_ you respond. “Good evening? Maybe Kiki is right, I am out of touch. I should probably stop talking to Victor, he’s rubbing off on me.”

His replies come quickly. _I’m cool, hbu?_ You squint. He’s not that much of a sparkling conversationalist, is he?

You shrug, typing out another reply. _I’m great, heading to bed after a long day on set._ You pause. _What do you do?_

 _I’m a cop_ , he says, _So u could say I’m looking to cuff u ;)_ You frown. Cheesy, but okay.

 _Haha._ What more can you say to that?

There’s a lull, so you take that as your out to go brush your teeth. You hear the phone vibrate, poking your head out of your bathroom and jogging over to your bed. It’s Gavin again. “What more does this guy have to say?” You say, muffled through toothpaste foam.

 _I have a question_ , is all it reads. You raise your brow. _What is it?_ The typing animation appears for a while, and you watch while slowly brushing.

_So like, if I was there with u right now, what would you do? Nd u can be as naughty as u want, I don’t mind :P_

You delete the app right before you turn off the light. "Yeah, it's as bad as they said it was."


	2. Act Up [VICTOR]

You’re waiting in the lobby of LFG, leg bouncing in anxiety. You received a very curt email from Goldman that Victor wanted an end-of-the-quarter report today, rather than Monday. Because of course, he’s freakin’ _Victor_.

The report was ready, thankfully, but it still needed a myriad of tweaks and elbow grease. You were up late with Anna working out the kinks, but you weren’t truly satisfied with it until…an hour ago.

So yeah, you’re pretty tired, and dealing with Victor’s sass isn’t the most appetizing thing on the menu right about now. But it’s now or never.

You check your watch: 9:05. Victor sure does talk a lot of crap about other people being late—because y’know, Capricorns—but now he was making _you_ wait.

You jump up from your chair, the receptionist not even trying to tell you to wait. The entire staff on Victor’s floor were well aware of your dismissal of his rules, and frankly, are kind of scared of you. You achieve the impossible time and time again, and you are one of the only clients of LFG not deathly afraid of Victor.

You rap your knuckles on his door. “Victor? Are you in? You can’t request a report three days early and not be on time…” You mutter the last part. He could very well have his ear pressed against the door, waiting to humiliate you and call you a Neanderthal for knocking so hard.

But, you’re met with silence. Your eyebrows furrow quizzically—he at least shouts when he’s busy.

You knock again. No answer.

“Seriously?”

You fiddle with the knob. Loose. The door’s unlocked. Oh, God, had Victor been _kidnapped_?

Your heart thudding in your chest, you square your shoulders, ready to fend off whatever assassin is trying to finish the job. If anybody deserves Victor’s head, it’s _you_.

You force the door open, and meet eyes with a surprised Victor, sitting at his desk with headphones in, glasses perched down low on his nose.

You let go of the breath you were holding. “Really?! How loud is your music?!”

Victor rests a hand on his chest, peeling off his glasses and pinching the space between his eyes. “You scared me half to death, idiot.”

“You kept me waiting, so I guess we’re even.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He sits up straight, “Good morning.”

“Can we just get this over with? I have to be on set in an hour. We’re doing a segment about memes. Ever heard of Lucky Luciano? Actually, nevermind, you definitely haven’t.”

Victor grumbles in agreement, standing up. “Let’s hear it—”

He gets up too fast, his headphones ripping out of his laptop. His face immediately shifts in horror, shaking hands trying to fumble on his computer to turn off the song playing.

You tune into the lyrics, recognizing the voices, and your eyes widen almost immediately. Thanks, Kiki. She'll be the first to know about this.

“Is that…City Girls…?”

_Stripes on my ass, so he call this pussy Tigger—_

Victor slams his laptop shut. “You heard nothing.”

You hold your stomach as you keel over in laughter. “You listen to…trap music? _What_?”

“Be quiet! Do your report please!”

“So you've also heard Old Town Road before, huh?"

“Of course I--JUST TURN IN THE REPORT MONDAY!”


	3. An Apple a Day [LUCIEN]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoilers for Chapter 8/9. Lucien really gave off serial killer vibes, so I rolled with it.

Laying in your hospital bed, you stare at Lucien. Hard.

He’s spinning a pocket knife between his disgustingly long fingers, the other hand gripping a shiny, red apple. He notices you staring, and locks eyes with you. You gulp.

“We’ve talked about Darwinism before, correct?” He says, voice spongey like the texture of a yoga mat. You nod slowly.

“Yeah. Why bring it up while I’m in the hospital…?” You chuckle nervously, trying to play it off as a joke.

Lucien ignores your question, popping out the knife. He’s still maintaining eye contact. You instinctively grip the sheets a little tighter. _Who let him into a_ hospital _with a whole ass_ knife _?_

He digs the blade into the apple, rotating the fruit almost _too_ slowly, as the knife began to scratch off the skin. Which people like, don’t do, right? We normally eat the skin, right? _Right_?

“Survival of the fittest. In the animal kingdom, and within our own populace. People tend to not see themselves as animals. How amusing.” He’s still rotating the apple, the skin falling to his lap in a neat spiral. You can feel the sweat beading on your forehead.

“Doctor Lewis said you had too much adrenaline from today. Interesting how too much adrenaline tired you out to this degree, is it not?”

You hesitate. “I…I guess.”

Lucien nods. The skin gathers in his lap, and he starts sticking the knife into the bare apple. “Almost like Darwinism is at work, even when we don’t think about it. It almost feels _too_ obvious sometimes.” He looks at you again. "You forget how hard surviving can be sometimes when the world works against you."

Your finger is pressed so hard against the nurse's call button that it's turning red.

He plucks the freshly etched apple piece out of the whole, and his face crinkles into a smile.

“Here.” He pushes the apple slice towards you. “Your blood sugar is probably low.”

“Please get the fuck out of my room.”


	4. Party Animal [GAVIN]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring karma characters Ryan & Truman.

It’s not often you get invited to a bachelor party. Most of the people you talk to at the studio are just as single as you are, aside from Anna’s long-term girlfriend and Willow’s increasingly concerning hookup stories.

You were shocked when you heard Ryan, one of the head cameramen, was getting married. You had met Ryan in passing at various shoots, and he was a sweet guy. You heard his now fiancé, Truman, was in the editing department, and Anna always spoke highly of both of them.

You didn’t expect an invite to their wedding but appreciated the gesture. Maybe assumed it was a whole-studio thing, so no one felt left out.

Until Ryan approached you before leaving work on Monday with an invite to his bachelor party.

But hey, it’s not like everyone in your department wasn’t gonna be there as well. So you decided to go.

And you forgot how much your coworkers _love_ to drink.

Ryan and Truman’s townhouse wasn’t really meant to contain all of these borderline alcoholics like it currently is. You assumed he knew what he was doing.

“Okay, okay, _one more shot_.” Willow asks you, pushing a small plastic cup towards you. You hold your hands up in protest, shaking your head.

“No, Willow,” You shout over the music, “No more. I already have had more than enough.”

“Two is _not_ enough, I promise!”

“C’mon, boss lady!” Minor appears next to you, holding his own shot. “One more can’t hurt!”

You look between Minor and Willow, beckoning you to join them with their outstretched hands. You roll your eyes, holding up your cup. They hoot in approval, tapping their cups in a cheers and knocking back the contents.

You hiss at the sting of tequila, laughing at Willow and Minor wrapping each other in joyous hugs. _Okay, no more. Genuinely this time_.

But an hour goes by, and you’ve had two more shots. Whoops.

You’re drunk enough now to introduce yourself—at least _formally_ —to the other camera operators and a few boom operators. They’re shocked at your boisterous personality, but hey, you’re shocked alongside them to be honest. Ryan tells you he’s glad you made it, and even make hard plans to hang out _outside of work_. You’re really getting yourself into a pickle here with how _extra_ you're being.

You’re in a corner with Minor, dancing and singing along to the pop song playing, taking turns spinning each other around and hugging.

You’re both close enough to the front door to hear the three fast, _hard_ knocks. You look at Minor, both of you giggling.

“I thought everyone was here already?” You slur over the music. Minor shrugs, “I dunno. Hopefully Ryan will get it, right?”

The knocks come again. _Harder_.

You peer past Minor, and see Ryan in the kitchen with the boom operators attempting a keg stand.

“Let’s get it.”

You tug on Minor’s shirt sleeve as he stammers—“This isn’t your house, we can’t answer it! Isn’t that illegal!?”—and throw open the door.

You’re met with a tall man in a blue uniform, and you and Minor both gasp.

You run back inside the house, pointing at Ryan. He’s discombobulated from the keg stand, hacking and wiping his mouth with his shirt collar. He makes eye contact with you, seemingly confused.

“Somebody ordered a stripper for you, Ryan!” You shout. The party attendees hoop in excitement, Ryan immediately looking around to his guests, assumingly asking around about who invited a stripper.

The man walks into the house, fingers in his belt loops. You take a blanket off the couch, walking back towards the stripper and draping the blanket around his neck, trying to pull him down to your level with a shimmy and a tug.

“Are you here to arrest us, officer?” You bat your eyelashes, earning laughter from Minor and Willow.

The stripper ducks out of the blanket, walking over to the light switch and flicking it on.

“I’m Officer Gavin, and we received a noise complaint about this house.”

The color runs from your face, and you immediately feel more sober. Oh, God. Oh, no no no.

You’re never taking shots like that again.


	5. Alter Ego [KIRO]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this goofy ass photo of kiro: https://acrispyapple.tumblr.com/post/185294284237/mr-love-tense-moments-twitter-lovenproducer

You have officially been dating Kiro for only two weeks. Your coworkers don’t know—Kiki is suspicious, but as creative as her brain is, she doesn’t ask hard hitting questions—and you intend to keep it that way for as long as possible, or at least until you're comfortable going public with it. Though he's in the prime of his career as one of the biggest stars in the country, he still managed to sneak into the parking garage to bring you candy and kiss your forehead before sending you off to have a great day. You both work pretty busy schedules, so it's rare to see each other outside of sleeping at the other’s apartment.

It's sweet, and way more low maintenance than you expected. Exactly what you want for right now.

You got off work earlier than expected; Minor and Kiki were working on proposals for upcoming pieces to air on Snapchat, and the most recent dating show episode was in the final stages of editing. So, surprisingly enough, you had very little to do, and you decide to head out.

You pull out your phone, thinking to text Kiro and ask if he wanted to come over. You stop before you type the message, thinking about his schedule. You remembered him saying he had an early session at the studio tomorrow, so him staying at your place would make his commute a little more hectic. You bite your lip as a smile begins to form, and pull up the Uber app. You know he’s home, so why not surprise him for a little bit instead?

You get dropped off a little bit down the street, just in case paparazzi are casing his complex. Thankfully, there’s only one or two staking out in the courtyard, so you walk through the lobby as if you were a normal resident, and enter the elevator. There’s a special sequence of numbers you need to enter in order to head up to Kiro’s penthouse, and you’re thankful you remember it (he recited them the first time he brought you to his apartment in a little song, because he’s so prone to forgetting his own apartment code, he needed a jingle to remember it. His agent clowns him for being spacey like that any chance he gets).

The elevator actually opens right into Kiro’s foyer, so you showing up will be a literal surprise. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet in excitement as the numbers on the elevator screen ascend, until it changes from floor 20 to a simple ‘K’. There’s a ding, and the doors _whoosh_ open.

“Kiro?” You call. “It’s me.”

You hear music faintly, and take a cautious step into the penthouse. “Babe?” You call out again. You see a faint light spilling from underneath the door of Kiro’s bedroom. You knock gently on the door, and it pushes open slightly. You push it the rest of the way open, and are met with Kiro, holding a towel over his right arm—

“Oh my God, are you okay!?” You shout, rushing to his side and holding his arm. “Are you bleeding!?”

Kiro blinks at you with wide eyes. “Oh. You’re here.”

You meet his gaze, resting a hand on your chest. “I’m sorry, I got off work early and thought I’d surprise you.”

“Aww, Miss Chips, that’s so cute.”

“Are you hurt!? Do I need to call an ambulance!?”

He laughs. “No, no, I’m fine, I promise. I didn’t mean to scare you!”

He removes the towel, revealing oblong white sheets pressed against his arm. You look at the towel again, and realize it’s wet.

Your brows knit in confusion. “What…are you doing then? And are you listening to Nine Inch Nails?”

“Temporary tattoos!” Kiro says excitedly. “They’re gonna look so cool, I promise. And Nine Inch Nails really gets me into the zone, y'know?”

“Kiro, why do you need temporary tattoos? Don’t they normally do those on set anyhow? Are you getting into method acting now?”

He scoffs, “No, silly, this isn’t for a movie. I’ll tell you all about it another time. Oh! Since you’re here, can you do me a favor?”

“I…sure. What is it?”

Kiro nods to the spray can on his night stand behind him. “Can you start spraying that on my hair?”

You stand up and walk towards the can, reading the label closely.

“Silver…? Kiro, what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“It’ll make sense, I promise! Can you please just do this for me?”


	6. But Then I Got High [VICTOR]

You’re not gonna sugar coat it: you dabble in marijuana occasionally.

Alcohol? _No_. You have an _extremely_ low tolerance. Even just two shots is enough to get you tipsy, so you try to stick to the occasional glass of wine or a celebratory drink after a good review.

Weed, though? _That_ was your sweet spot.

It was curiosity at first, how all of your endeavors normally start. Kiki hadn’t zipped her backpack up all the way before heading out for the night, and a small baggie fell out. Willow had hissed at her immediately, Kiki turning around and her skin paling quickly. You saw it, but didn’t say anything. You definitely noticed Willow stealing glances at you until you left. You weren’t 100% on what it was in the first place, so it soon became a distant memory.

However, it was just you and Kiki one night, probably a month later. You swiveled around in your chair, wondering what was the right way to ask her about it.

“Kiki.” You spoke. She jumped in her chair, popping out one of her earbuds.

“Whatsup, boss lady?” She said cheerfully.

You hesitated, wringing your hands in your lap and considering all the ways HR would have your ass if this didn’t go smoothly.

“You…dropped something from your bag a while ago. Was it…weed?”

Kiki’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even know it was in my purse. Holy shit, am I in trouble—?”

You raised your hands, giving her a cautious smile. “No, no, you aren’t in trouble! You’re totally fine. I was wondering, though…” You took a breath, Kiki taking the other bud out. “So, like…do you think…?”

Kiki held her hand up, a sly smile on her face. “Say no more, boss lady. I know exactly what you’re asking.”

So, for the past three months, you’ve been smoking with Kiki on the weekends. It’s actually a phenomenal stress reliver.

It’s Saturday, and you’re sitting out on the balcony of Kiki’s apartment. Kiki is ripping the bong next to you, while you’re trying not to burn your thumb nail again lighting the bowl in your hand. This ritual was strictly for the two of you; nobody in the office knows. Minor would no doubt snitch to Gavin, Anna would be absolutely mortified. Not even Willow knows, who Kiki smokes with on a regular basis.

You let go of the smoke, watching it billow into the late afternoon sky. You guys had a later start today because of a shoot, so you’re definitely doubling down.

“What should we eat today?” Kiki says, scrolling on her phone. “I’m thinking we should DoorDash some Thai food.”

You hum in approval, leaning back in your chair. “Thai sounds real good. I haven’t eaten since…yesterday, actually.”

“Your work ethic is inspiring and concerning all that the same time, boss.” Kiki snickers, flicking her lighter.

“Well, it’s partially being handled, thanks to you.” You hold up your bowl in some sort of pseudo-cheers.

Kiki smiles, blowing smoke at your face. “Oh, have you hung out with Victor lately? You never told me if you got that third date.”

You pause, then your eyes widen. “Oh no. That’s tonight.”

“…Like, _tonight_ tonight?”

You’re out of your chair and fumbling for your keys. “I need to go, oh my God, I need to go.”

“Slow down, what time is he picking you up?”

“Seven—”

You look at your phone. It’s literally 6:15.

“Oh my _God_ , Kiki, why am I so _stupid_!?”

“How about you call and reschedule?”

“With _Victor_? He’d throw a fit!”

“Oh, Jeez, we’re both really high too.”

“Don’t remind me! I’m leaving!”

 

 

You’re sitting in Victor’s passenger seat, painfully aware of your hands.

You made it home in ten minutes, and your high _immediately_ kicked in. You showered and scrubbed your hair at least four times, so hopefully all the upcoming premieres are successful to compensate for your water bill. You put on a sleek, black bodycon dress, dowse your eyeballs in eye drops, and hope to _God_ he doesn’t notice.

Victor clears his throat, and you flinch slightly. He chuckles, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t, I’m sorry.” You’re so wrapped up in whether or not he can smell the weed on you. “Where are we dining tonight?”

You catch Victor’s glance, his eyes snapping back to the road quickly. “You don’t remember?”

“No. Sorry, it was a long shoot today.” You chuckle. Oh boy.

“It’s a French place on Main Street. I texted you about it the other day. Or is this you confirming you ignore me?”

“No, no, I don’t ignore you. French sounds good.” You sniff. “Do they have…chicken fingers?”

You didn’t realize you spoke until you _feel_ his whole body turn to look at you when he pulls up to the red light.

“I’m…sorry, what?”

“Shit. Please ignore that.” You cover your face in your hands.

“Are you okay? Do I need to drop you off?”

“No!” You say quickly. “Sorry. I’m fine, I’m spacey. I don’t wanna reschedule.”

You meet his gaze, and he’s staring at you with those steely, purple-gray eyes. You feel the sweat forming on your forehead. Victor shuts his eyes briefly before resituating and driving onward. He hits a sharp right, and your brows knit in confusion.

“Wait, Main Street was on the left, where are you going?”

“Change of plans. There’s a string of food trucks down this way.”

“Oh, okay…”

Victor pulls into a convenience store parking lot, the food trucks coming into view around the corner. He looks at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Will that suffice for your munchies?”

Your eyes widen, and your head hangs in defeat. “It’s so obvious isn’t it? I’m so sorry. That is so rude of me, I should’ve rescheduled.”

“You’re right. But it’s really funny to see what you’re like high. So, I’ll let it slide, just this once.”

You look at him quizzically. “You’re not repulsed that I’m under the influence?”

“Believe it or not, I was high for the majority of high school. C’mon, stupid, let me feed you.”

He’s out of the car already, but as you chase him down and demand he tell you stories, the smell of funnel cakes and the warmth of his hand become more important.


	7. An Actor's Range [KIRO]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's currently a karma event where the prize is an SR kiro, and it's revealed his agent's name is savin. so that's who savin refers to in this.

Kiro texted you while you were at work, a simple “please come over when you’re free?!?”, followed up at least seven prayer hand emojis. You rolled your eyes at your desk, typing off a quick “fine” before tossing your phone back on your desk. This was supposed to be your half day, and you had a hot date with a Lush bath bomb and Hitachi magic wand. But, his message seems a bit urgent, so you could delay your plans.

You enter his apartment at around two, and see him sitting criss-cross on his floor, paper strewn all around him and his laptop sitting in his lap. He looks up at you, face breaking into a grin.

“Miss Chips! Thank you for coming, seriously.”

You raise your eyebrow. “No problem…what’s so urgent? The only emojis you ever use are the cake and one of the hearts."

Kiro dramatically sags his shoulders with a sigh. “Savin dropped off a handful of show appearances, and I need to pick some to do. I’ve been so wrapped up working on my album that I haven’t done any television spots in a while. I was enjoying the break, too…”

You nod, plopping down on the ground across from him. “So you want me to help you pick?”

“Precisely! You’re a producer, so I trust your read on if it’ll be good exposure or not.”

You frown. You left work early for more work. You’re gonna masturbate _twice_ today now. But hey, this is for a friend...

“Alright. Let’s hear what you got.”

Kiro scans the papers on the floor, pointing at the one closest to you. “This is one I’m definitely considering.”

You read the casting call. “…A cohost on _Catfish_.”

Kiro nods deeply, “Yeah, I love that show!”

You squint at the fine print. “‘Must be trained in self defense as we cannot guarantee safety’. Kiro, you know you’re like, 140 pounds soaking wet. What if this is the episode where there’s a fight?”

“I can handle myself! Besides, it's _Catfish_. It's not like they ever come across dangerous people on that show, right?”

You blink, “Right, okay, so this is a hard _maybe_.”

You grab another paper, ignoring his groan. “Your own season on _The Bachelor_?”

“I’m not sure about that one, but I heard I don’t have to go through with marrying the winner. Plus, I get to go to the beach! Isn’t that exciting?”

You rub your temples with a sigh. “You should watch an episode before anything, Kiro. And I dunno, that seems like a big commitment, especially for you. Okay, show me another one you definitely wanna do.”

He held up his finger, typing on his laptop with his free hand. “I was invited to stream with Twitch star Ninja and play minimum five rounds of Fortnite…for charity!”

“Oh wow, I hate that. I mean, that’s right up your alley though, it goes well with your personality and Ninja is extremely marketable.” You pause. “Kiro, have you ever played Fortnite?”

“I’ve never heard of it!”

“Oh no, those kids are gonna tear you apart…tell Savin to send you a new batch, this is all unusable.”

“Tear me apart for what? Isn’t it like Minecraft?”

“Stop talking, please.”


	8. Fifty Shades of Beige [LUCIEN]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you guys know a fifty shades parody is too predictable with victor. so i spun it.  
> also known as, "fifty shades of gray but if MC was a rational human with her head out of her ass" au
> 
> my friend also described this as more of a thriller than jokey lmaoooo honestly let me know if youd want more serious fics from me, i can provide em

You had a really weird feeling about him. It wasn’t necessarily _bad_ , but it wasn’t, like, _good_.

You were shocked when Willow, your roommate, stumbled into your room with a high fever, begging you to go to Beige Enterprises to do an interview in her stead. It was for the Loveland University newspaper, and there was no way she could reschedule, considering the person she was talking to—literally the CEO—was impossible to schedule with. It also didn’t help that he didn’t seem too fond of interviewing for the newspaper anyway.

With a lot of convincing, and Willow almost passing out from her fever, you donned your most professional outfit and made your way to Beige Enterprises.

It went…alright. You weren’t a journalism major like Willow, so you stumbled over your questions, and the CEO was very keen on calling you out on your inability to ask follow-up questions.

But the CEO seemed more interested in interviewing _you_. Which was…odd. You asked Willow when you came back home if that was normal, and she answered with an arched brow and a, “Uh, sometimes, but that’s weird for Lucien Beige of all people. Dude’s not a social person. But whatever, don’t think too much of it. Thank you for doing it, _seriously_.”

That was a week and a half ago. You brushed it off, decided to keep it in the ‘interesting story’ pocket of your brain, and went about your daily life.

But then, Lucien had shown up to the television studio you were interning at. That’s when the _weird_ feeling set in.

You met his hard, hazel gaze, and he gave you a polite smile. You nodded in return, carrying on with your job duties. But he kept…staring at you. _What do you want_?

Your coworkers were buzzing about how _the_ Lucien Beige was doing an interview at _our_ studio, and how _crazy_ that is. You asked them what made this so special, and they explained that he _never_ makes television appearances unless he absolutely has to.

 _Could he…?_ You immediately dismiss the thought before it could fully manifest. No way. He’s a _billionaire_ , and you’re just a college student. No freaking _way_.

You were sipping on a smoothie on your break, off in the hallway away from the set. Willow was sending you a bunch of funny tweets while you were working, so you’re engaged in some kind of weird, bass boosted video when you suddenly feel a looming presence in front of you.

You flinch in surprise at the sight of Lucien Beige, towering over you.

“It’s nice to see you again.” He said, his voice akin to a gentle rumble.

“Uh, hi.” You greet him. “I’m kind of shocked you remember me.”

“I could never forget you.” He said, stare lingering on you for a few seconds too long. Your brow arches.

“…Right. If you need something, I’m on break for another ten minutes, but there’s probably a PA back insi—”

“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?” Lucien asked. Your eyes widen.

 

 

And after a lot of, uh, _aggressive coercing_ from Willow and your other coworkers, that’s how you ended up here, at a high-class steakhouse in downtown Loveland, with goddamn Lucien Beige.

You told him you were vegan, but he didn’t really…hold onto that, apparently.

The small talk is few and far between, which is fine. He deflects any questions you ask about him, always with some kind of iteration of ‘you will learn that with time’. Whatever the _fuck_ that means.

“What are you studying in school?” He asks suddenly. You look up from your pitiful plate of cauliflower and broccoli, and notice how he didn’t wonder why you didn’t get any steak. Noted.

“Media Production.” You reply, “I graduate in the next few weeks. I’ll be working at my dad’s studio. A little close to home for me, but a job’s a job.”

“Oh, that’s exciting.” He smiles. You smile back politely, taking a peak at the clock behind his head. C’mon, c’mon.

“I’m sorry if this is forward, but I feel very drawn to you.” Lucien says.

You look at him with confusion. “Why?”

“I’m…not so sure.” He pauses, “If it’s not too much to ask, would you like to come by my estate? I don’t expect anything intimate, so don’t worry about that.”

“Uh, I don’t know man…I have class in the morning—”

“I’ll cancel it then.”

Your face twists in a mixture of confusion and actual fear. But it seems like this guy can’t really take a hint, and at this point, you’re going along for the story. So, you hesitantly get into his slick, black rich person car while also have your finger hovering over 911 on the ride to his house.

Once you get to his sprawling mansion, you feign interest as Lucien shows you fancy painting and sculpture peppered across the million rooms in his gaudy house.

“Well, Mr. Beige, this was great, really, but I should be getting home. Like I said, I have class tomorrow, and it’s pushing midnight—”

“I wasn’t lying. Check your email.”

You stop talking and see he’s staring you down with utmost seriousness. You pull out your phone, opening up your school email account. Lo and behold, there’s an email from your MDIA 3454 professor, _I’m sorry for such a last minute email, but I have to speak at a conference, so class tomorrow will not—_

“How did you find out what class I had?” You force out, your voice shaking. Lucien gives you a gentle smile, “Don’t worry.”

“No, no, I’m fucking _worried_. That’s crazy. You’re crazy.” You pause, feeling the hyperventilation starting. “Oh my God, did you do that interview at my studio because you _found out that’s where I work_?”

Lucien takes a breath, closing the space between them. “I needed to know if you were the one.”

“The _one_? Are you trying to propose, get a publicity wife?”

“I’m not the marriage type.” He says sternly, hesitating before continuing. “I am…a former dominant.”

“A _what_? Is this some kind of sex thing?”

“Yes, exactly. I… _used_ to like being the dominant with a submissive. But…I’ve changed.”

You take a few steps back, and he’s right back to being in front of you.

“I want _you_ to dominant _me_.”

“Dude, _what_?”

“Domination and submission.”

“Call me my fucking uber, _now!_ ”

“You’re already so perfect for the role, please at least consider it—”

“ _No!_ Get away from me! Rot in hell!”

“Just like that, yes!”

“STOP!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title was "fifty shades of red (flags)"


End file.
